Caves
by loveorsomething
Summary: Hermione has just begun to cope with the death of her husband, Ron Weasley, when she discovers one of her greatest enemies secreted away in a cave...


1

The cave was damp enough that she had trouble breathing, but she pressed on toward the tenth chamber, listening for any echoes reverberating from wall to wall to tell her that she was being followed. The humidity was not what bothered her, but the smell of decaying flesh and ancient mold.

This really had begun to become ridiculous, traveling back to this cave every day and attempting to coax the withdrawn ex-DeathEater onto her side - the side that was trying so hard to reinstitute function and order in the Ministry of Magic, and overall, the world.

When Remus became aware of the cave in America near a completely decimated major city where Voldemort and his entourage had often met during the heat of the war, he sent three of his most trusted to give it a once-over.

Naturally, Hermione Weasley, an extraordinary auror and detective, was among them. Harry and Luna Lovegood were her partners in this task, and when they went to explore, they went as far as six miles inward with no sign of human inhabitance aside from a few faded plans scratched into the walls, and a small chamber completely full of skeletons and rotting carcasses.

A few of them were identified as missing Order members, and a handful were taken back home and given proper respects and burials.

After a few days of thorough searching with no discovery of remaining evildoers, they packed up and prepared to vacate the area.

Hermione, as thorough as always, continued to search for another two days after her partners had left, cataloguing random items and debris, then identifying and tagging the remaining bodies in deeper chambers. She didn't mind the tedious work, fiercely dedicated to helping the Order and respecting those that had fallen doing the same.

Near the end of the second day Hermione found a tiny crevice in the tenth chamber and was totally bewildered by the fact that she hadn't seen it before.

She carried her lit wand into the crawlspace and followed it for what seemed like two miles at least, lost as to why she was going this way, but knowing that there had to be something they'd missed. Just as she'd begun to grow weary of crawling on her scuffed knees, holding her wand in her mouth to make use of both her hands, she heard the echo of a rock dropping.

She stopped dead, feeling as though her heart had jumped into her throat with the hope that maybe she'd found something useful. Then she heard it again, this time louder, followed by a heavy string of curses and a definite sob. Even through the heavy shivers and wails she could identify the owner of the voice as Draco Malfoy.

She didn't know how to react. How long had he been living here? Weeks? Months? Alone, in the dark? Or did he have his wand? She was silent for several minutes, running questions through her head, until finally she made up her mind. She would capture him herself.

So she continued through the crawlspace, listening to his anguished sobs, until she came to an opening that seemed to drop at least four feet when she felt around with her foot. The sobs continued, though her scooting made a lot of noise, and her wand shown like a beacon in the large, dark chamber.

She waved it around in search of her soon-to-be prisoner, and finally saw a huddled figure crouched near a wall with his head buried against the chest of a petite, dark-haired woman.

Was that... Pansy? He was mourning the loss of his wife, and by the looks of it, she hadn't been dead for more than a day. Had she died from starvation? Were the two being kept here for punishment, or had they gotten lost?

A flash in the far corner caught her eye, and a large, tiger-sized ginger-haired cat emerged into the light, looking emaciated but highly relieved.

"Crookshanks!"

The cat came galloping toward her, and Draco threw himself across the corpse of his slain young wife, his eyes adjusting slowly to the light drenching the cave. Hermione could tell that he was focussing wholly on the blurred form of her pet.

"Keepiwaypleasenomorepleanojugowaygoway..."

Hermione winced at the realization that Crookshanks had killed Pansy.

She backed further into the crawlspace and coaxed her cat in with her, though he seemed reluctant to leave Draco alone. Once they were both inside, she cast a binding spell on the little entrance and began travelling back.

She had lost Ron nearly a year ago, and knew how alone and helpless she'd felt mourning him. That knowledge alone made her sympathetic to Draco's plight. She would let him mourn and come back later.

Maybe he'd be dead by then. At least, if that were so, he would not have to endure any more torture.

Now it had been a week, and she'd been coming back everyday and leaving food below the entrance into the crawlspace, telling Remus that she'd discovered more bodies and would like more time to identify them. He offered to send more people to speed up the process, because she was an important member of the Order and her presence and skill were detrimental to their cause.

She told him that this was a personal task, and that it would only take a couple of months to finish. He reluctantly agreed, but told her that she could only be gone for two months and that, if she wasn't finished by then, he would be calling her back to headquarters and sending lesser officials to finish up.

Today she felt was the day to make actual contact. He had fought to survive, though the rotting body of Pansy would definitely make him ill if he remained as close as he had up until now.

She'd left Crookshanks to patrol the tenth chamber as she pushed a heavy basket with her lit wand lodged into the thatching through the tunnel.

She emerged out the other end, sweating and panting, with basket in hand. Sure enough, there he was, stroking Pansy's jet-black locks in silence.

She knew that he saw her, but because he made no sudden movements she was not threatened. Slowly, she began unpacking the many sandwiches and pieces of fruit from their wrappings, waiting for him to do something. He did.

"I read about his death in the Prophet. Valiant, wasn't he? Shielding you from that Unforgivable like any man should, whispering a goodbye before he died."

Hermione was startled by the outburst, and she stared at him before answering, though he was not looking back.

"He didn't say anything. That was just a reporter spicing up her story. There wasn't any time for a goodbye."

Draco began tracing Pansy's decaying features, and Hermione was sure that she saw tears cutting a path through the grime collected on his face.

"They sentenced my father to death for it, by way of the Dementor's Kiss. It was strange, you know... Seeing as how the Dementors had been at Voldemort's hand. That's when I knew that working under the Dark Lord did not put you in league with him, it made you his slave. If your death helped him, or at least did not hurt him, then you were expendable. And so I did the only thing that I could; I tried to get myself and Pansy away from him.

"My mother was disgusted when I gave up our son, Damon, to her, and told her that we were leaving. I thought that I could trust her. She was my mother..."

He started sobbing again, and Hermione was dumbfounded. For some reason, she trusted his word. He struggled to regain composure, drawing a soiled hankerchief from his worn jacket pocket and wiping tears and dirt away. She hadn't the heart to tell him that it was not doing any good.

"She alerted Voldemort immediately, and apparently he thought that I was not nearly important enough to be dealt with personally, so he sent DeathEaters to fetch us before we were too far gone to be found. They brought us here, to this cave, and secreted us away into this chamber.

"We thought that we would die of starvation, but all that Pansy seemed to care about was the well-being of our son. For two weeks we were left here in the dark, stripped of our wands and dignity, and then your cat was brought in. They said they found him hunting near the ruins of the burrow, and apparently thought that the most lowly way for us to die would be at the mercy of something lower than even an Order member: an Order member's pet.

"The cat avoided us for two more days, and we could hear him stalking about, hunting for something other than people, until Pansy snapped. She cursed him as if he represtened all that we'd endured. I tried to hold her back, to calm her, but she was crazed. She broke free of me, and... And I heard them scuffling for a few moments before... She cried out a last time, and he killed her.

"Later that night I went groping about the cave for her remains... And I found her in tact, with only four great slashes across her belly. Your cat would not eat her. So I dragged her to this corner... And awaited death.

"The DeathEaters had told me that myself and Pansy's bodies would be fetched later, for some reason or another, and they left us with enough food and water for two weeks. I rationed it for two months, and had been out for a week before you came.

"I thought that I was hallucinating at first, delirious from lack of sleep and nourishment. But you took that cat away and left me to mourn in peace.

"You were an angel, Hermione."

Hermione was speechless. Had he just called her an angel? He really was delirious.

Cautiously, she carried a chicken snadwich and a canteen of water over to him, attempting to shield her nose from the putrid smell of Pansy.

Seeming unaffected by the stench, he took the food from her and rose from the spot near his wife. Hermione watched him move across the chamber to a rounded stalagmite on the ground, and assumed that he was being as polite as he knew how by drawing her away from the corpse.

She watched him eat in silence, wondering to herself why she'd let him live this long. She was actually helping him to survive, bringing him food and water, and now keeping him company. She decided that it was purely empathy.

"I know the pain. It's immense. Unbearable, even. I don't mind giving you a few days alone to collect yourself. This torture is worth a million Azkaban sentences."

Draco stared down at the remains of his sandwich, then drew heavily from the canteen. She dropped down to sit a few feet away from him, shining her wand at the beautiful formations throughout the chamber. They looked like jellyfish and sea urchins, co-existing harmoniously in a gray sea. She hated it.

"So when are you going to take me?"

Hermioned glanced at him in temporary confusion. She hadn't put much thought into it, hoping that they could continue with this relationship of support and weakness. She'd wanted so badly for someone to hold her up when she was falling, but Harry was so involved in the fight for peace that he hadn't the time to console her. She'd never held it against him, but she needed him. She'd needed him - badly - and he wasn't there.

Now she was being given the chance to help someone out of the well of pain that she'd had to dig herself out of, and she was damn well taking it.

"I'm not. You tried to get out, to be neutral, all for the good of your family. You tried, and failed, and now I'm going to give you a second chance. I'll feed you, I'll help you through this - I'll even bring you books for a while. But I only have two months. If, after two months, you're not rehabilitated to my liking, then I'll kill you myself. Your other option is obvious. I turn you in now, and you'll be administered the Kiss with no hope of seeing your son again. Make your choice."

Draco tossed the remains of his sandwich onto the ground and seemed lost in thought. He inhaled heavily and gazed at his wife, his lips quivering as he spoke.

"Give me tonight to think on it. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."


End file.
